The Dragon of the West's Nephew
by Toystory242
Summary: A series of oneshots about Iroh and Zuko's bond told from Iroh's POV
1. Prologue--The Feeling of Loss

**_"Oh—and about your nephew, maybe you should tell him that you need him too."_**

Iroh could remember clearly the feeling that hit him when he was told. The feeling that completely overwhelms you and takes you over, and, sometimes, can even destroy you. The feeling that you should have been there, even though it's impossible that you could have.

The feeling of losing the someone that is closest to you heart.

"General Iroh, sir, I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"Bad news?" Iroh knew there was lots of casualties, and it hurt him to see so many men die. But it was part of war, part of conquering, and it had never been considered as bad news.

"It's about your son, sir."

Fear was suddenly evident in his chest, his blood, his whole being. "M-my son?"

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but…Lu Ten did not survive the last attack."

_Lu Ten…did not…_

"Wha…" Iroh was having trouble forming words. He wanted to send to the man away, but nothing would come to his lips.

The feeling sat on his chest, a huge weight, an elephant of fear and sadness and guilt.

He could see Lu Ten in his mind. His son, his perfect son.

_"We'll have tea when I get back, Dad!"_

He hugged Iroh. He waved at Iroh. And he was gone.

Little did Iroh know, he would never come back.

Conquering? What was conquering? Something that didn't matter, obviously. Everything that they were doing suddenly seemed so insignificant, so wrong. His son died trying to get this city, this stupid city, and now Iroh wanted nothing to do with it.

So the great Dragon of the West surrendered, and brought all of his troops home.

He knew Ozai had been crowned Firelord. He had gotten the letter on his way back home. Before, he would care. Before he had love in his life, he would've cared. His father, Azulon, had drilled the ways of fear and power into his brain. He had never really loved his father. He loved his father the way you were _supposed_ to love a parent, that way where you had to, but the only person he had really ever cared deeply about in his life was his son. His son had changed the way he thought; cleared the muck that Azulon had placed in his brain.

Love was so much more important than power.

He had loved Ozai, but only the way you _have _to love your sibling. Ozai had never been interested in the things Iroh had wanted to do. Even as a child, even with Azulon's muck, Iroh had always been the one that was more kind, the one who would help the hurt animal, not enjoy watching its suffering.

Without Lu Ten, Iroh was alone and hopeless.

The muck was returning. But it was a different kind of muck. Not the muck of power and ruling, but the kind of complete and utter despair. He just wanted to sit down. Sit down for the rest of his life.

Through the gate and through the garden and into the palace he went, a ghost, a zombie. Many people came up and offered to escort him places, offered Iroh condolences. But he didn't want any of it.

"Uncle." There was a tug on his robes.

_Uncle? I'm a…uncle?_

He turned and saw a child. Much younger than Lu Ten, ten years at least, with a kind face and dark hair, held up in a ponytail. There were tears on his small face. He _recognized_ that small face. It cleared the muck away in an instant.

"Prince Zuko?"

That is when Iroh realized.

There was another person in his life that he cared deeply about.

**Holo! This is an authors note! Obviously. You guys knew that. You're smart. Anywho, this is the prolouge in a bunch of oneshots (Is that what you call them? I'm new to this.) that I want to write about Iroh and Zuko's bond (from Iroh's POV), because it's one of my favorite parts of the series. Sorry it's so short, but it's a prolouge, so, you know. And I wanted to get the idea out there. Enjoy! :D**


	2. Chapter 1--Zuko's Kick

Night had fallen long ago. Iroh, for once, was still awake, unable to fall asleep. He held a cup of steaming tea in one hand, a lantern in the other, wandering the ship's corridors. He thought about checking on Zuko, but his nephew was either sleeping or didn't want him around.

Dark shadows had consumed his nephew, becoming worse as the days went on.

Iroh wanted him to find himself so much.

This, a man that was always angry and snappy and horrible to be around, was not Zuko.

It was one of the many reasons Iroh hated his brother. He feared that, because of what Ozai did, Zuko would never be happy again. And all Iroh wanted was to Zuko to be happy.

_Please. Just give him that._

Down the hallway, Iroh heard a grunt. Then he heard the sound of fire crackling, the sound of it crawling along in the air. There was the harsh sound of footsteps, the rhythm of heavy breathing.

Iroh continued along slowly, pushing against the door at the end of the hallway, looking through the open crack to the ship's deck.

There was a man, running, jumping, spinning, twisting in circles. He was quick, and obviously strong. A fire blast lit up the air, shooting from the man's hand, revealing a face covered by a scar.

It was his nephew.

Zuko was out here, in the dead of night, training.

Iroh watched, as, very suddenly, Zuko got on the ground. He held up his lantern, watching as Zuko rolled across his shoulders, using his arms to get off the ground. What incredible upper body strength someone must have to do that—Iroh knew that Prince Zuko was strong, but…

Zuko's hands moved very quickly. Off the metal ship and then back on it. He was twirling in a circle, his feet in the air, spinning with him as well, fire blasting from his feet.

And it was all over in a matter of seconds.

Iroh had never seen a move like that before. It must have taken Zuko so much control over his body to be able to do that, and so much strength. It was almost like…a dance.

Zuko jumped up to his feet after the move was finished, ran forward, jumping and releasing one last fire blast before remaining still, breathing heavily and gripping the side of the ship.

"Zuko!" Iroh pushed the door all the way open, walking briskly over to his nephew, who jumped at the call of his name.

"Uncle?"

"That kick—did you make up that kick?"

"You were watching?"

"Did you make up that kick?" Iroh repeated his question.

"I suppose…I was just…practicing."

"Zuko." Iroh gripped his nephew's shoulders tightly. "That move was _amazing_!"

Zuko, his nephew, the one that, in recent times scarcely smiled, gave his uncle a happy, almost disbelieving grin. "Really?"

"Yes, my nephew. And even more so, you made it _yourself_. This simply proves how good of a firebender you are, if you are so familiar with it that you can make your own moves. You, my nephew, are a true firebender."

**Yeah I know, super short, but I didn't really know what else to add to this one. And MAN the KICK! Do you guys know what kick this is? He uses it ALL THE TIME AND IT'S FREAKING AWESOME! Seriously, my friends and I have analyzed this thing over and over. SDLKJSDLFJSDLKJ LOVE THIS KICK SO MUCH GOLLY.**


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